three feet of them, and sometimes they even permitted us to touch them with a stick. They seemed to be quite silent, never uttering a sound, and their feathers were so fluffy that their flight was almost as noiseless as that of an owl. I saw one or two of these birds as I entered the wood, but none afterwards. The Lapp-Tit was very common and very tame. I saw one black-and-white Woodpecker, but did not get a shot at him. Some Willow-Grouse flew over my head out of shot, and I saw many Pine Grosbeaks. I thought I heard a Jay scream, but could not get a sight of the bird.

The following day I had a long round on snow shoes through the forest in the morning, and another nearly as long in the afternoon. The sun was burning hot, but a cold north wind was still blowing, and it was freezing hard in the shade. I then discovered that the Nutcracker was by no means the silent bird he appeared to be when close to the houses. I got amongst

the Atlantic to the Pacific. In Norway it has not been recorded north of lat. 64°. Harvie Brown and I did not find it in the Petchora, but Hoffmansegg found it in lat. 62°, near the sources of that river. In the valley of the Yenesay I found it between lat. 64° and lat. 67. In Europe it breeds in the pine forests of South Norway and Sweden, and is said to breed in the mountains of Southern Spain and Sardinia. It certainly breeds in the Alps and the Carpathians, and in winter is a more or less irregular and accidental visitor to the rest of Europe (with the exception of Turkey and South Russia), including the British Islands, occasionally appearing in some parts of the continent in very large flocks.

It

probably breeds in all the mountains of Central Asia, from North-eastern Turkestan to the Amoor, occasionally wandering in winter to Japan and North China. In Cashmere it is represented by a very nearly allied species, N. multipunctata, differing only in being of considerably larger size, and in having the white on each feather much more largely developed and the brown much darker. To the southeast, in the Himalayas, where the climate is more tropical and the rainfall excessive, it is replaced by N. hemispila, as large a bird as the preceding; but the change in the plumage has been exactly in the opposite direction-the brown parts are browner, and the white on the feathers less developed.

quite a colony of them in the forest. At one time there were eight in one tree. At another time they flew from tree to tree, screaming at each other. They have two distinct notes, both harsh enough. One, probably the call note, is a little prolonged and slightly plaintive. The other is louder and more energetic-an alarmed or angry tone. This is probably the alarm note, and is the one which on the previous day I mistook for the scream of a Jay. It is almost as grating to the ear as the note of a Corncrake. I found the Pine Grosbeak as common as they had been the day before, and shot males both in the red and yellow plumage. I was also fortunate enough to get a shot at one of the pair of birds which the sailors called Ravens, and which they assured me had wintered at the Koo-ray'-i-ka. I was surprised to find him so small a bird, and I am now convinced that he was only a large Carrion Crow. His croak was certainly that of a Crow and not that of a Raven.

I continued to make excursions in the forest every day with greater or less success. After all, the forest was nearly denuded of birds. I sometimes trudged along on my snowshoes for an hour or more without seeing one. Then all at once I would come upon quite a small family of them. The few birds there were seemed to be gregarious. Pine Grosbeaks and Lapp-Tits were generally together, perhaps three or four of each. On the 27th I succeeded in securing the Woodpecker, and found him to be, as I expected, the Threetoed Woodpecker. On the banks of the river small flocks of Snow-Buntings occasionally passed, and the Nutcrackers continued as common as ever. The latter birds were re

markably sociable, three or four usually congregating together about different parts of the ship, and apparently watching with interest the operations of our sailors, who, assisted by some Russian peasants, were busy cutting away the ice all round the vessel. The river was frozen solid to the bottom where the Thames was moored, and the captain was afraid that when the water rose she would remain attached to the bed, and be swamped instead of rising with the water. This was no imaginary danger, for I remember a case in point which happened in the Petchora. The ship I refer to did certainly float when the water rose, but she left her keel ice-bound to the bottom of the river. The Thames was frozen very fast indeed. The last couple of feet was frozen mud, as solid as a rock, and the men found it hard and tedious work chipping away this icy mass with their pickaxes.

SAMOYADE PIPE OF MAMMOTH IVORY.-OSTYAK PIPE OF WOOD INLAID WITH

LEAD.-TUNGOOSK PIPE OF WROUGHT IRON.

The Ostyaks of the Yenesay-An Ostyak baby-A new bird-Visit from the Blagachina and the Postmaster-Black-Cocks in the forest-The CapercailzieWary crows-Stacks of firewood-Result of a week's shooting.

WHILST we were waiting patiently for summer to return I was much interested in observing the natives of these northern climes. Every day our house was visited by Ost'yaks who came with Squirrel Ermine and Fox skins, to barter for meal or black bread from the Russian peasant merchant. These Ost'-yaks must not be confounded with the Ost'-yaks of the Obb. The latter are a Finnish race allied to the Voh-gools' of the Urals, the Zyr-ri-ah'-ni of the Izhma, and the Kvains of Lappland. The Ost'-yaks of the Yen-e-say', on the other hand, are allied to the Sam'-o

yades. At least this was the opinion I formed, as the result of my inquiries into their language. There were several Ost'-yak chooms at a short distance from our winter quarters. These chooms, or tents, were exactly like the summer tents of the Petchora Samoyades, covered with birch bark; their sledges also were of precisely the same construction as those of their North European relations. Judging from their clothes they must have been very poor. Their reindeer were large, and looked healthy. On one occasion one of the women brought a baby, a queer little thing, with black eyes and black hair. The cradle was a wooden box about three inches deep, with rounded ends, almost the shape of the child. The bottom of the box was oval, and projected an inch beyond the box at either side, and three or four inches at each end. A quantity of sawdust lay at the bottom of the box, which was covered with a piece of flannel over the child's legs, and a hare's skin with the fur on over the body. The baby was placed in the box, having on nothing but a short cotton shirt. The flannel was carefully wrapped over its feet and lashed securely, from two places on each side, to a brass ring over its knees. The arms were placed close to the body, and wrapped up with it in the hare's skin, which was secured as before to a brass ring over the breast. Half a hoop of wood, the two ends of which were loosely fastened to the sides of the box, was raised so as to be at an angle of 45° with the bottom of the box; it was kept in that position by lashings from the top and bottom; when a handkerchief was thrown over this it formed a hood over the child's head. The little one cried as the complicated operation of